Mad World
by Kai-Chan311
Summary: You never truely know why a person acts the way they do until you get a first hand look at what goes on in their lives. However, Dean never knew that things could be this horrifying with the life of his favorite bullying victim.
1. Blue Eyes

_Mad World_

Author's Note: Ok, wow! I was not expecting this to be the second thing I ever posted considering I just started it and have at least fifteen other short stories I can get around to typing up, but here it is! This is only the second multi-chapter fic I've ever written or attempted to write. This is because I usually get so bored with long stories I create I abandon them. However, this one has been stuck with me for weeks saying "write me! Write me!" So, I will.

This chapter is going ot be short, since it's just an introduction that will give basic background knowledge to readers, but the next I put up I will try and make much longer.

Also, I wish to apologize for any grammer and spelling errors now and in the future. Microsoft Word (and the rest of the Office programs) have decided to lock and will not unlike for anything. This means I'm stuck with Word Pad. If you would be kind enough to point out errors, that would be wonderful!

Title of story based on song "Mad World" by Gary Jules (which is absolutely fantastic no matter how angsty it is).

Warnings: AU, Slash, Violence, Bullying, Language, Child Sexual Abuse, Homophobia

Chapter I:

Blue Eyes

Dean knew why he did it, just as he knew how wrong it was, but he just could not help it. He did not want to hurt anyone, not really, but he did. He knew all of this, just as he knew that if he stopped, he would probably be hurt more than any of those he hurt trying to keep his dirty little secret.

From a young age, Dean had seemed to know he was different. He knew that he was different because he could never look at a girl an think "I really like her," but he could look at other boys and think "he's handsome." He knew from a young age that he was gay. Not many people acknowledged his differences. His parents were very supportive and his dad even teased him ofter when he would ask "got a boyfriend yet, Dean-O?" However, this did not last long. One day, in the last few weeks of sixth grade, he was standing at the front gates of his middle school, waiting for his parents, when he was suddenly nearly knocked to the ground. A stone was thrown at his head, then another, and then another until he was nearly stoned to death in the front yard.

They Winchester family moved from their home in Florida to a more quiet place in Lawrence, Kansas to start a new life. Dean pretended to be straight, and by the time he was a tall, muscled sixteen year old with cropped blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a flirty smile, he was quite good at it.

He made friends - for once in his life - but his grades began to fall. The stress of keeping his secret grew difficult, but he could not afford to let it slip. He just could not let anyone at school find out.

It turned out that even at Lawrence High, prejudice and homophobia were still present.

Every last one of Dean's new "friends" loved to pick on and torment the homosexual teens that attened. Alastair in particular could be exceptionally cruel. He would shove at them, push them down in the middle of the halways, shout at them how disgusting it was to be faggots, and drown them in their lunches. After a short time, Dean began to join in. He did not want to be found suspicious because he was the oddball who seemed to give two shits about how they hurt the feelings of the tormented children. He would od anything just to be accepted.

Of course, the little posse Alastair had formed had a favorite victim.

Fragile, pale skinned, little Castiel Novak seemed to be a popular target for most of Alastair's cruelties, for a number of particular reasons, the most obvious being the fact that he is gay. The fifteen year old freshan - which, that fact in itself, can be on of the reasons - was quite poor, with a limited wardrobe that seemed to consist of clothing at least two sizes too big. Most of their school mates claimed that his parents were either dead or that they did not care about him at all, because they were never seen. He was jumpy, and was easy to startle, something Alastair took great joy in. His form was thin to the point of looing malnourished, his dark hair was always a mess (to everyone, it seemed like he did not even understand the concept of a hairbrush), and he rarely participated in P.E. class due to a condition that stole his breath from his lungs under strenuous circumstances.

Jealousy could also have fueled Alastair's torments, because nothing else could rival the beuty behild in the younger boy's luminescent cobalt blue eyes. Dean, of course, felt like a girl for thinking such things, yet he knew the truth in that thought was undeniable.

This scared the Winchester boy to no end. It meant that attraction for the freshman had formed, and that surely meant complications would surely arise if Alastair - or anyone else for that matter - found out. He kept on going along with them because of this; he could _not _allow them to find out about him! If that meant beating down and humiliating the blue eyed beauty, then he would.


	2. Troubles

_Mad World_

Woo-hoo! Eugapae (hooray in Latin)! I can't believe I got chapter 2 out so early! It makes me feel proud of myself! Anyway, I hate to say that this may not be true for the third chapter, as I have not even begun to write out the first draft yet (I literally only have the first sentence). So.. yeah...

Please enjoy the next chapter in _Mad World_!

Also, I just now noticed that I have neglected to put the oh so redundant discalimer in the first chapter...

Do I really have to say that I am not Eric Kripke? I think it would just be a little obvious, ya know?

Chapter II:

Troubles

"I swear, you should have seen the look on his face," Alastair gloated, and it was one of the only fragment of his friends' conversation Dean had decided to bother himself with. "It was priceless!"

Dean knew that he was talking about Castiel again. The Novak kid was all that seemed to be noteworthy at the lunch table ever. Typically, if it was not about what recent torture he had endured at the hands of Alastair and his groupies, it was dropped with alarming speed. It made the Winchester's stomach roll.

"What did he do then?" The question was asked by Lilith, a pretty, young, blonde woman with a fair complection and an elf-like face (at least Sam says that is how it looks. Dean likes he to say he does not speak nerd). All of her feminine qualities hid her true, sadistic personality, and this made her the perfect match for Alastair.

"His eyes got all red and watery, but he ran off before I could see him cry. It was rather disappointing."

Dean often wondered if His "friend" had always been as sadistic as he is now. He kept asking himself if under that pale skin, short cut brown hair, and coal-black eyes lies a soul that could not have been darker. The image of Alastair being born looking frighteningly similar to Hellboy was drawn to his brain each time he thought this, and he always struggled not to laugh at how much of a possibility it was. He was thrown out of his musings a second later, however, when Alastair himself threw an unopened carton of milk at him.

"Dean, you've been awful quiet today," the older boy grinned, and Dean suppressed a shudder at how cold and dead the curve of lips looked.

He attempted to return the smile, and only hoped it did not look as faked as it was. "Yeah, I'm fine; just a little spaced today."

"No kidding." There was a brief silence over their table before Alastair turned around to catch sight of the very object of their earlier conversation. Castiel was sitting alone, face downcast as he shifted his food around on the white styrafoam tray in front of him, but even this could not hide the sigh of a freshly formed cut over his eyebrow and the split lip from being knocked into the door by Alastair earlier that day. When the freshman briefly looked up and caught sight of his torturer, he grew paler (if that was even possible). This made Alastair grin and turn back to his companions.

"Well, what should we do to him next?"

"Leave him alone..." It was just barely muttered under Dean's breath, but it was apparent their leader caught something when a dark scowl formed on his face.

"Now why the fuck would you want to do that? You've never had a problem with it before." His voice, normally so mellow and sing-songy, came out more of a growl that almost literally had Dean shaking in his boots.

"It's just... What has he done wrong? I mean, we're torturing this poor guy, but why?" True confusion filled Dean's voice, and he almost immediately regretted commenting when Alastair laughed bitterly.

"Dean-O," he said when his fit was calmed, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a damn fag yourself." Dean flinched, but luckily this went unnoticed when Alastair continued, "good thing I know better," and the conversation was put to rest.

When the lunch bell rang and students were released to class once more, Dean glanced around the cafeteria. He didn't really want to think about why, but he just felt driven to look for Castiel. At first, he thought it was to make the kid was alright and had not lost conciousness amidst the stampede of teenagers, but he soon realized how dubious even his own thoughts sounded. He really wanted to just look in those cobalt eyes; he wanted to see the pain there and take it all away from the poor, fragile thing.

God help him if anyone ever found out.

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur. Dean was unable to focus in the remainder of his classes. He was called down twice in history by Ms. Milton and told to "stop slacking" at least ten times by Mr. Adler in physical education - the only other time he saw Castiel - at the end of the day (and that was totally NOT the reason Dean was performing poorly, he swears it).

When the bell finally rang, Dean nearly jumped with joy. It had been a long and stressful week, and with Friday's school day finally over, he could relax. He sped off to the men's locker room to grab his things, but was stopped by the sound of someone calling his name. Turning around, he found his friend Chuck Shurely jogging towards him.

Chuck was one of Dean's only friends outside of Alastair's gang of homophobes, even though even they were not told of Dean's true sexuality. The sixteen year old (in other words, Dean's age) was a fellow sophomore, and an aspiring writer - unfortunately, his pieces were not exactly pleasing. Becky Rosen - a blonde haired, green eyed, hyperactive girl who just happened to be Chuck's girlfriend - kept attempting to reassure him that his writing style was simply different than was what most people were used to. He always wore his dark hair a mess and baggy, comfortable-looking clothes hung from his thin frame (though not as slender and pretty as Castiel's, Dean could not help but notice). The dark haired boy's addiction to coffee and cappucinoes led to him being quite a jitterbug and on more than one occasion, Dean was forced to confiscate the sickeningly sugared-down beverage. He was unsure whether or not it was possible to overdose with coffee, but he did not truely want to find out.

"Hey Chuck,: Dean said with a friendly smile. That smile soon faded, however, and in its place was left a look of disgust as he watched his friend open what was possibly his fifth can of Starbuks coffee and empty two extra packets of High-and-Low sweetener into it. "So, uh, you ready for me to walk you home?"

"That's what I came and got you for; I'm staying for academic team today. My folks are going to pick me up afterwards." Chuck's intelligence and cafe-enhanced reflexes and reactions allowed him to become the prize player for Lawrence High's academic team. This meant that Dean would not have to bother escorting the lanky boy home on Thursdays and some Tuesdays (and apparently some Fridays now too).

"Alright then," Dean said with a shrug. "I'll see you on Monday then."

With that, Chuck waved good-bye and hurried back towards the main building, mindful of his coffee of course.

Dean sighed quietly and turned back towards the locker room, truding towards the door tiredly. Just as his hand connected with the door handle, he could just barely catch the soft noises coming inside that sounded quite like groans and whimpers. It made him immediately pause. 'What the hell?' he thought to himself, and ever so careful and quiet, he pushed the door open just enough to be able to see through a small crack.

What he saw made his face pale, his breath stop, and a knot to form in his stomach.

A thin puddle of blood coated the white linoleum floor underneath two bare bodies, both men, joined at the hips. The one man on top was, without a doubt, Mr. Zachariah Adler. His (balding) head of white hair and round stomach was unmistakable. The other body was much smaller, and frighteningly slim. His skin was pale and coated with a fine sheen of sweat just as Zachariah's was. Bent over on his hands and knees, it was easy to see that the blood had come from him if the same liquid cascading down his thighs had anything to tell. His head was hung, and messy black hair hid his face, even as his body jolted forward, but Dean could just barely catch a flash of deep blue eyes.

'Oh God,' Dean thought, bile rising in his throat. 'C-Castiel...?'

It felt as if hours had passed. It felt as if hours of blood, hurt, and fear crept by. It felt like hours passed of whimpers and moans that only grew louder and louder, as did the brutal slander ("good little pet," "filthy little whore," "no one else wants you") whispered into the boy's ear. It felt like hours had gone by, and Dean could not help him all because he was frozen in shock and anger at the injustice.

When the writhing bodies finally stilled, and Zachariah pulled away to clean his hips of blood and body of sweat, Castiel's body trembled briefly before he collapsed in the mess of his own blood, his chin crashing against the linoleum as he he tried to breathe. He coughed raggedly and little specks of blood flew onto the floor.

Zachariah smile fondly, if not a bit sadisticly, at the smaller figure and pet through his hair gently. He then proceeded to dress and toss a set of keys a few feet away from the boy's trembling hands. "Be sure to lock up and put the keys in the usual place." With that, he left (Dean was extra sure to hide behind the bleachers so as not to be seen).

As soon as the door shut, Castiel turned into a sobbing, blubbering mess. Dean watched with a heavy heart as he curled into such a tight ball, Dean could see each little notch of his spine and briefly thought it might snap. The freshman's entire body shook with the force of each cry.

Dean took a few steps through the doorway, quiet and slow so as not to startle the fourteen year old further. He swallowed thickly, the said, "C-Castiel?" He did not miss the blue-eyed boy's flinch at the sound of his name. "Castiel, are you okay?" Receiving no response, he started forwards again. Kneeling down beside him, he reached out slowly to touch the younger teen's shoulder, mindful of developing bruises left by a grip that was too strong. The second contact was made, however, Castiel jumped up with a startled shout, body rigid and his stance reminded Dean of a caged animal - frightened and ready to pounce.

Dean quickly pulled away, putting his hands up to show he meant no harm. "It's okay, Castiel," he said softly and took a slow step back, "I won't hurt you."

"Yeah, because you've demonstrated that so well before."

It was the first thin Dean had heard him speak in almost a week, and it hurt so terribly that he physically winced. There was a brief silence between the pair as they looked into one another's eyes - Dean's pince green ones alight with guilt and pity while Castiel's nearly overflowed with pain, humiliation, and caution.

Dean, of course, was the first to break it. The other boy nearly jumped at the suddeness of his words. "Look, I know I've done nothing but be an asshole to you, and you definitely have no reason to trust me, but I... I want to help you." Another silence, longer this time, engulfed the pair. In his head, the blonde teen counted to ten, then took a tentative step forward.

He was unsure whether or not his move was wise when Castiel's eyes widened and he threw himself back into the lockers, making them slam and rattle, eyes full of panic. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screamed it at the top of his lungs before bursting into a coughing fit so strong he collapsed to his knees on the tiles, trying to regain his breath.

Dean hurried to his side, gently gripping his twig-like biceps then rubbing his back comfortingly, not exactly too sure what to do with his hands. when the younger boy's episode finally ceased, he was once again a shivering, crying mess in Dean's arms.

"I-I'm sorry," he whimpered into the sophomore's t-shirt. "I d-didn't mean t-to sna-ap..."

Dean held him close, shushing him gently. He had dreamed of holding Castiel since he first laid eyes on the boy. He just would have given anything for it to be under less nerve-wracking circumstances.

When Castiel's tears dried and his sobbing was reduced to hiccups, Dean helped him wash off in one of the showers, but when it came to cleaning his thighs of blood, Castiel ushered Dean out. Dean held him steady as the freshman pulled up his boxers and jeans. Castiel did, however, allow Dean to pull his size large shirt over his head of dripping brown hair. Dean could not help but note that he had never looked smaller.

"Do you want me to tak you home?" He hurt the boy for months and could not save him from being raped. It was the least he could do.

Castiel considered this for a moment, blue eyes focused on Dean with a look of uncertainty that made Dean feel like he was being scrutinized and soul-searched. He had always thought victims of such a taboo crime were supposed to always seem scared and be unable to make eye contact, but Castiel seemed to switch from powerful and ready to attack to fragile so quickly it nearly gave the Winchester whiplash. He eventually began to unconciously squirm under the gaze, and he nearly released a sigh of relief when Castiel nodded his head in approval at the idea.

They walked towards a quiet part of town, despite being so run down (it always looked darker than the rest of Lawrence and its inhabitants just as gloomy, but gangs were absent). The half-hour walk from the school to here was spent in silence. Neither said a word because both were unsure of what to say.

Castiel's house was small and looked incredibly unstable. Dean was immediately reminded of the first house meets the second house of the three little pigs tale. It was made of a dark, damp-looking wood with two small dirty windows, and it looked like it was no more than three rooms. The grass that made up the lawn was dead, the once-white fence's paint long since chipped away, and the most expensive looking and well kept part of the exterior was the shiny silver doorknob on the peeling door. It looked as run down as the boy who lived in it. Dean only wondered it if was as broken on the inside as him too.

"So, this is it," Castiel spoke softly, shifting onto each foot uncomfortably on his front (only) step. In all honesty, it looked more like a wooden stepping stool carelessly placed in front of the rotting excuse of a porch. "Are you going to be okay getting home?"

Dean hoped he did not show the shock he felt at the question. To think that Castiel was going to ask one of his tormentors if he would be alright after what he just witnessed made his stomach lurch in discomfort. "No... I mean, yeah; I'll be fine."

Castiel nodded slowly in response and cast his eyes downward. Dean was about to turn and walk away when he felt a delicate hand brush a curling strand of blonde hair behind his ear.

He turned toward Castiel with wide, confused eyes, but the boy's face held no emotion.

A few seconds passed witht he pads of Castiel's fingers simply pressed to his cheek. When he spoke again, it made Dean begin to tear up. "There is nothing you could have done." Then he retreated into what Dean had dubbed "the shit-hole."

Dean was unable to contain himself, and let out a single choked sob. When composure finally returned to him, he walked home, struggling not to steal a backward glance at the broken building, and the equally broken building that lives there.


	3. Secrets

_Mad World_

I told you it would be a while, but it most certainly was not as long as I thought it would be. Again though, I only have the first couple paragraphs of chapter 4, and I only write during spare class time because it's usually some of the only free time I get :/

Anywho! Please enjoy this installment of _Mad World_ brought to you by the color gray - the color as bland as inequalities and punctuation XP

Chapter III:

Secrets

By the time Dean returned home, the sky was stained a light purple with sunset that tangled with other reds, oranges, pinks, and blues. The cool breeze bit at his skin, and falling leaves danced around his ankles. He paid little attention to all of this though. He was much too focused on what he had witnessed earlier that day. He just could not erase the images of innocent little Castiel on his hands and knees being...

He shuddered at the thought. It was all just too much.

The Winchester family home was grand, though not what Dean would call extravagant. The exterior was white and the roof contrasting black. Large windows lined both the top and bottom floor, a pie sitting in the one that allowed a glance into the kitchen (just the sight had Dean drooling). The front yard was a large expanse of grass that was obviously dying with the quick apporach of frosty weather, and the back yard was even larger. Shorter trees lined the sides and front of the building, and Sam's tire swing hung from one of the taller, stronger ones.

The moment Dean opened the door, he was assaulted by the distinct scent of apples and also by a smaller figure that has attatched itself to his legs.

"Hi Dean!" Dean looked down at his little brother with a weary, yet fond smile. Sam was rather tall for a twelve year old, coming up at just below his big brother's pectorals. Everyone knew he would be a monster in size in a few short years. His hair was long, messy, and a sort of brown that would remind one of burnt oranges almost. His eyes were wide and a shade of green that reminded Dean of spring time, so he always felt warm when he looked into them. There was also how smart the kid was. Their family was positive that he was destined for a pre-paid scholarship to any college he wanted.

"Hey kiddo," Dean replied. "How was school?"

"Long and boring, as usual."

Dean chuckled and ruffled his brother's hair. "That's just because you already know it all, Sammy." then he stretched and climbed up the stairs towards his bedroom. Plopping into the mess of sheets that covered his matress, he decided to shut his eyes, only until dinner.

Sleep never came for him though. It was no use, as his mind would not stop racing long enough to allow him rest. Castiel kept plaguing him, damn it all. He spent at least half an hour simply staring at the ceiling before he heard the dinner call.

"So Dean, how was school?"

Dean knew his looks came from his mother. They both had the same pine tree colored eyes and fluffy blonde hair. They seemed to also share the same smile in moments when they were genuine, and they both worried as much as mother hens when it came to the family.

It was not particularly normal for Dean to appear upset by matters whe he was at home - expecially when a plethora of home cooked food was spread out before him. He was sure Mary was doing all she could not to outright ask if she needed to hurt anyone for her little boy's sake.

"It was... fine, I guess?" It came out more of a question than a statement, so he quickly added, "I mean, it was school. It was as good as school can get."

He briefly thought about telling them about Castiel. For a moment, he wondered if he should mention what he had witnessed, even if not for any other reason but just to clear his conscious and put his mind at ease. Then he realized that even if he did tell them, what could be done? He did not really know anything about the situation between his crush (obsession) and Zachariah. If the police went to Castiel, would he even talk? He had to find a way to get the story from the freshman first. He did not want to risk losing the one chance they had at putting that vile man away.

Mary seemed to take this as a decent, normal answer for her oldest son - albeit a little reluctantly - and turned to Sam next.

"It was great mom!" The kid was nearly bursting with excitement. he rambled on about all of his scores of 100% and about the kiss that almost was with a girl named Jessica, but Dean only caught bits and pieces of it. He was just too preoccupied with shoving food around on his plate.

Not many other words were exchanged after that. the rest of the night was spent as if there was some sort of silent mutual agreement that everyone needed a break.

The weekend nights eventually passed and it was time for school again. Dean's eyes remained open unless to blink, even though he still hated that because every time they closed, there Castiel was. He trudged and half-assed getting dressed, yawned through breakfast, and nearly toppled over on more than one occasion on his way to school.

Alastair and the others did not talk to him immediately, just looked at him oddly. It was as if they thought he was a zombie. If the way Dean felt was and indication to his appearance, they would not exactly be that far off. He would have given anything for it to be the weekend again. No one truly knew how wonderful the idea of collapsing in the middle of the hallway to sleep sounded to him at that moment.

Looking up at one of the many clocks, he saw that there was still another half hour before classes started. He gathered his belongings and headed off towards the bathroom, hoping the stoners were not on their morning trips. He was pleased when he found that they were all missing. However, his gut clenched tightly when he noticed Castiel staring at his reflection in one of the mirrors. He had an unreadable expression on his face, but it almost looked like disgust as he gazed into his own eyes.

"Cass, is that you?" Dean was doubtless that it was, but he wanted to alert him.

The younger teen instinctively flinched when addressed, even if he did try to supress it. He reluctantly turned away from the mirror to look at the new arrival with black rimmed blue eyes, as if he too had lost much needed sleep over the short break. A dark eyebrow raised, stretching the scar that crossed over it, in confusion. "Since when do you call me Cass?"

Dean felt his cheeks warm a little with embarassment. He meant to say "Castiel," but the nickname just rolled out of his mouth so easily...

He shrugged quickly as a response. "Just now, I guess."

Castiel nodded slowly, eyes slipping to the floor before turning back to the Winchester.

"You know, you look like shit." Then he chuckled at himself, and a weak, but brilliant smile lit his sunken, tired features. Dean laughed too, and he knew he had never seen anything quite so beautiful.

He looked into the mirror at himself and scrubbed a hand over his face. Dark circles around his eyes showed how weary he was, his hair was a mess, and his clothes appeared as if they were thrown on carelessly. He most certainly did look like shit.

As he tried to flatten down his hair, Castiel must have found something amusing, because he permitted himself another laugh. "Here," he said softly, "let me help." He then took a comb and a bottle of hairspray out of his black backpack and immediately set out to smoothing out the soft blonde hair and styling it into his not-quite-mohawk hairstyle. He then proceeded to tug on Dean's clothes until they looked as if they were put on with more care and sprayed him with Axe cologne. "There; now you seem like you cared."

Dean felt as if he would start drooling with the way Castiel was caring for him. It felt wonderful to have those slow, delicate fingers run through his hair. It felt like bliss when those same fingers just barely skated across his skin when Castiel adjusted his clothes. It took all of his self control not to whine when he pulled away. "I can't believe you practically have a beauty salon in your bag."

"Well, you never know when it would come in handy. You should be thanking me instead of criticizing me."

There was a brief silence before Dean could no longer take it and spoke again. "So, what exactly were you doing in here?"

Castiel worried his bottom lip with his teeth briefly and slowly moved his hands behind his back, as if trying to hide something. Dean's eyes followed the movement, but could not find anything wrong.

"Oh," Cass replied, "Just thinking..."

"About what?"

He bit his lip again, just a little bit harder this time, before releasing it. "About our situation." He stepped closer to the older boy quickly and grabbed his shoulders, a pleading look in his eyes. "Listen to me; you can't tell anyone about what you saw. Not a single soul can know about me and Zachariah."

Dean felt his eyes grow a little larger and he was sure his mouth was hanging open in shock. "Cass, you can't be serious! Not even the police?"

"_Especially_ not the police."

"Your parents-?"

"Fuck them." It was growled out with such bitterness that Dean nearly flinched. "The won't listen to anything."

"Well, why can't I tell anyone? We could get you help, put Zachariah behind bars... Don't tell me you don't fight him because you want it." Just the thought made Dean's stomach roll, but it just slipped out.

Castiel flinched away, stepping backwards until his back was pressed to the bathroom wall. He cast his hurt blue eyes once more to the tiles underneath them. " Of course I don't," he said softly, "I don't think there is a much greater torture." Then he looked back up, eyes locking with his friend's and the Winchester found himself pinned. "You just have to trust me. Don't tell anyone."

The bell rang and Castiel hustled out to class, leaving Dean alone to stare at the spot he once stood.

"Hey man, you okay?"

Dean was sitting at lunch four class periods later with Chuck and Ash - another nerd who loved to run his fingers through his mullet and hack computers that Dean was friends with. He must have been staring off again.

"Yeah, don't worry. It's all good."

Ash raised an eyebrow as he studdied his friend. "You sure? You've been staring at Castiel like you're going to either eat him or tackle him for the past ten minutes."

Dean blinked rather stupidly. "I was?" It was almost a genuine question. "Oops..."

Ash and Chuck shared a quick, concerned look before turning back to the rest of their lunches. Dean unconsciously turned back to the blue eyed boy. His lunch remained untouched.

At the end of the week, Dean waited outside of the locker room, behind the bleachers, for his P.E. teacher to leave. He had promised Cass that he would at least start walking him home afterwards, and he had for the past six days.

Even hidden behind the bleachers, the sounds coming from the room were still clearly audible. Taking out the CD player Sam insisted he buy, he turned on one of his favorite Metallica disks. It blasted against his eardrums, and while it was not loud enough to block the sickening noises it most certainly helped.

Keeping a close eye on the clock, he found that their session lasted just over twenty minutes. He was shocked, considering how long it had felt the first time he witnessed it. Seeing Mr. Adler walk out of there with a smug grin absolutely made Dean's blood boil with rage. He would have given anything to go up to him and punch it right off. He could not though; he promised Castiel that he would refrain from revealing or rash actions based on the situation.

"D-Dean...?" The voice that called his name was meek and quiet. Dean was uncertain how he had even heard it. Looking up, Dean's heart broke at the sight of Cass's pale skin painted in red smears as well as blue and purple blotches.

Realization dawned on him then; he had been so focused on not killing his teacher he had nearly forgotten to help tend to today's damage.

"Oh shit Cass," he breathed, standing up and taking the trembling boy into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

Castiel sniffled. "I... I thought you left m-me..."

The green eyed teen almost cried. "No Cass, I would never do that. I'm not going to abandon you, ever."

Cass nodded and sniffled again into Dean's t-shirt.

The Winchester led him into the showers and carefully cleaned away the blood and sweat he was coated with. He pet though Castiel's soft hair reassuringly every time he flinched and he could not help but notice how the younger boy seemed a little bit more broken and fragile today than he has lately.

"Hey Cass," Dean began once the freshman was dressed again and calmed down, "are you busy this weekend?"

Castiel scrubbed a bony hand over his face and turned large, red, puffy eyes filled with confusion towards his friend. "I... No, I'm not. Why do you ask?"

Dean the proceeded to scratch the back of his head in a gesture that almost could be called nervous, like a child asking his crush on a date. "Well, I was just thinking... I don't really want you to be feeling lonely, so maybe, if you want to, you could come over and stay the weekend?"

Castiel's eyes held genuine surprise. It was as if no one had ever invited him to stay the night with them. Then Dean realized, they probably had not. When Cass asked him if he was serious, he was unsure how to feel. He was still unsure how to feel when the smaller boy threw his arms around him.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" he cried repetetively, "I'm so tired of being alone."

Dean could think of nothing else to do but hug back, a slight blush upon his cheeks. "You don't ever have to be alone again," he thought to himself.


	4. Like Coming Home

_Mad World_

OMC! Chapter four is done so early! I would have had this one posted a few days ago, but I've been sick for two weeks without it letting up and all of the exhaustion finally caught up with me. I was coming home from school since Monday and have been spending my free time with 3 hour naps. I know, bad excuse, but I'm being truthful.

Still, here we are! An early, rather happy chapter as opposed to my first three. I can't exactly say how long it'll last, but it is nowhere near the end of the angst :D

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><p>Chapter IV:<p>

Like Coming Home

Together the boys readied their belonging and started off down the street. Dean could not help but steal glances at the younger boy walking by his side and was greatly amused by the way he looked. Castiel gazed upon the buildings with amazement, as if he had rarely been in the presence of homes that were not crumbling or smelling of smoke and rotting wood. His bruised pink lips hung open in an "o" of awe, his body was practically vibrating with energy, and his blue eyes were wide with childish innocence. It was a nice change, Dean found, from his usual scared or bitter attitude.

"You look unnaturally happy," Dean noted aloud with a smile. "What brought this on?"

Castiel blushed, having not realized he was gazing the way he was, and looked down at his feet as he walked. "I, um, I'm just so used to my little dump of a neighborhood. I've never really been around homes this..." he pause, trying to think of a decent word, "extravagant."

"It's not that special, really."

"To me it is. Besides, I've never really stayed the night with anyone. I'm excited and a little nervous to see what will happen."

Dean's warm smile grew and he ruffled the fourteen year old's hair in a way that could be reassurring or lovingly (though Dean would not exactly say "lovingly"). They walked, nearly pressing together from being so close, all the way to the Winchester abode. Dean walked up to the door and was just about to unlock it when he noticed his friend was no longer beside him. Instead, he was stading rigid and nervous. Sighing, Dean beconed him forth with his hand, hoping the younger boy would catch the gesture.

Taking his steps cautiously, Cass moved until he was pressed to his friend's side, seeking the calm that washed over him when the other was near. "Dean, I'm scared," he whispered.

Dean's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Why are you scared Cass? You don't need to be. It's just my family; they aren't going to eat you."

"What if... What if your family doesn't like me?"

As Dean looked into those concerned blue eyes, he could not suppress his laughter, much to the annoyance of the boy.

"Seriously Cass; of all the things to be afraid of right now, you're afraid of the possiblility of their disapproval?" He scrubbed a quick hand over his face and chuckled softly before unlocking the front door. "They'll adore you."

The second the door was opened, Sam's body barreled into Castiel's. The force caused them both to be knocked to the ground and Dean could not restrain his hearty laughs this time. "See; Sammy already does!"

Sam knew from the moment he collided with the body that it did not belong to his brother like he hoped it would. It was much too lithe and feminine. It was probably some girl who's name was unimportant to everyone that he brought home to keep his secret with. When he got up off of the stiff form, apologizing profusely, imagine his surprise when his eyes met those of a (currently red faced) young boy.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry." Sam's eyes were wide and his face tinted with his shame. In response, Castiel attempted to mas his discomfort of being in such close proximity with a small smile. He got up, dusted off, and turned wide blue eyes to Sam.

"It's alright," he said, "no need to fret."

A moment of awkward silence passed before Dean began to usher everyone inside, giving a breif introduction of both younger boys with name and title as they pertained to him. If it was possible, Cass's eyes grew even wider with wonder at the decoration. The interior consisted of cream colored walls free of marks and scuffs. The chestnut wooden floor tiles gave way to plush carpet in the family room, the stairs leading to a second floor, and a pair of offices down the hallway. The large family room consisted of two leather sofas, an old and florid grandfather clock, and a massive entertainment center adorned with books, video game consoles, and a 72'' television. Family photographs of happy, smiling Winchesters lined nearly every inch of the walls, as well as the coffee and end tables.

This is where Dean forced him into a seat and tugged off his tattered tennis shoes. "You relax here Cass," he said with a grin. "I'm going to go get some food real quick."

"Dean, I-!" Castiel's attempts at a good argument about how he capable of getting his own food fell on deaf ears. Dean was already in the country-themed kitchen.

Meanwhile, Sam studied his brother's new companion. He observed everything from his too defensive posture to his amazed blue eyes. He was a curious fellow and something about him just did not sit right with the youngest Winchester. Something about him just seemed so... shattered.

Taking a seat next to him, he decided to try and start a conversation. "So, your name's Cass?"

"It's actually Castiel, but you can call me Cass if you want."

Sam nodded. "Do you go to school with Dean?"

"Yes, but I'm a freshman." The older boy paused for a moment before he spoke again. "Your brother is a very good friend."

"Well, I'm happy he's being nice to you." Sam knew of how Dean sometimes hurt people. He was not blind to his brother's guilt and was the only person in the house whom Dean could rely on. He did not metion this, however, for all of their sakes. He scrutinized the dark haired teen one last time before he says, "you must really be special to him. He never invited over his guy friends. For the longest time, we didn't even think he had any." Castiel just watched him with deep eyes and Sam almost began to squirm. "But you're special; I can feel it."

Castiel blushed softly, as did Sam, and turned his gaze downward. "Thank you," he said softly.

Dean chose that moment to walk back in with a tray holding three bowls of macaroni and cheese and three cans of coke.

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><p>The rest of the time between then and when Dean's parents returned was spent introducing Castiel to the wonders of barbeque rib flavored potatoe chips and Alice: Madness Returns on the PlayStation 3.<p>

Mary and John shared an unplaceable look upon entering to the sight of their sons shouting "death to the teapots!" while a strange boy mashed buttons on the game controller, a little flustered.

"No Cass; shoot it, don't stab it!" Sam shouted, frantically tapping the boy's shoulder and grinning.

"Kill it," Dean cried and lifted his arms in an exaggerated manner. "Kill them all!" Then he proceeded to laugh maniaclly, as if he had just escaped a mental asylum.

The boy just huddled into himself a little. "Can I just focus on not dying?"

The parents smiled at the trio.

"What are you boys up to?" John spoke, and not a single body didn't startle.

Castiel quickly paused the game and dropped the contoller. He slipped behind Dean. Sam, on the other hand, shot up and scurried over to his parents to hug them both. Dean frowned briefly before throwing a confidant smile at his friend. So many new faces must surely be spooking him. Not to mention that the perpetrator of his abuse was a person who was supposed to be a trusted adult. Maybe that was why he acted more insecure around his parents than Sammy.

"It's alright Cass," he spoke softly, "it's just my parents. They won't hurt you."

Then he stood, pulling the smaller boy up as well. "Mom, dad," he began as he walked over to his the couple, "this is my friend Castiel. I hope you don't mind, but I kinda invited him to stay over this weekend." Castiel briefly moved out from behind Dean to wave shyly.

Mary seemed to be immediately infatuated by his innocent seeming nature and smiled warmly at him. "Welcome to our abode Castiel. I would say make yourself at home, but you're already doing quite a good job at that." Cass was comforted by her words. They brought him a sense of motherly affection and, dare he say it, home.

Home... He liked the sound of that.

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><p>After a dinner of chinese take-out, the Winchesters and their guest sat down in front of the television for family session of Jeopardy. Castiel and Sam answered most of the questions, and most of the time, they were correct. Dean watched more than he played. It was nice to see his friend so calm for once.<p>

Midnight struck eventually, and the large clock rung loud enough almost to rattle the house, or so it seemed. Mary looked up at the white face and bit her lip slightly. She then looed back down at the trio on the couch.

"Honey," she said in a voice just above a whisper as she gazed at the huddled boys facing the blank television, "how are we going to get them to their rooms?"

Sam, Dean, and Castiel were all wrapped in one another's arms, eyes shut in sleep and smiles on their faces.

Finally, the only boy left to put in bed was Castiel. The couple decided that it was best to slip him into bed with Dean. They hoped it would calm the whimpers that started up when the oldest boy was carried away up the stairs. Carefully, John slipped one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees to lift him. He was so light, it reminded him of carrying an eight year old Sam again.

The moment he was jostled, he broke out into louder whines and wheezes in his sleep. His body trembled and he began to mutter under his breath. With concerned glances, the pair started up the stairs towards Dean's bedroom - John carrying him and Mary petting through his hair in a motherly fashion in hopes of easing his nightmares.

Dean was stil exactly how his father had dropped him; his eyes shut and his mouth wide open, snoring so loudly they were surprised the neighborhood had not filed a noise complaint. Half of his face was planted in his pillow and his right arm and leg hung off the side of his bed. A small trail of drool tracked from one corner of his mouth and his expression was serene.

John slowly moved to the other left half of the bed and situated Castiel on his side under the sheets. The young teen shifted towards the other body sharing the mattress and proceeded to bury his head in the crook of Dean's neck as if it were some sort of instinct. His trembling stopped almost completely stopped and his whimpers died down to almost nothing. Dean sighed and also moved so he had his friend securely enveloped in his arms to protect him.

Mary gave both boys goodnight kisses to the forehead and John flicked the television on in case either boy woke before they snuck out and into their own room for sleep.


End file.
